


Tales of Crushed Sodas and Checker-Board Dresses

by Paranoixa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, School Dances, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 00:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranoixa/pseuds/Paranoixa
Summary: "Sorry I took so long, Peter", Savannah was saying. "You would not believe the line to the girl's bathroom.""It's fine", Peter assured with a light laugh. "If it's anything like the line to the DJ, I don't think I can be too mad at you."Savannah giggled, and Michelle scowled as she shrank behind her hair. She discreetly peered through the curtain of brown curls and watched the two as something bitter rose from her core and settled between her esophagus and her trachea.(And it most certainly was not jealousy because that would mean she cared, and she definitely couldn't care if she hadn't wanted to go to the fucking dance in the first place.)





	Tales of Crushed Sodas and Checker-Board Dresses

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda rushed through this, so I'm sorry if it seems a little weird in some places.

It wasn't that she wanted to be there.  
No. No, she most definitely didn't want to be there. She simply hadn't had anything better to do. Her father was working again, and she'd completed her homework for the weekend during her free period. Of course, there was still that test she had to study for in Geometry, and Kishimoto's water was running a little low. And her laptop was in dire need of repair after having cranberry juice spilled over it.  
Worrying tasks, yes, but they were nothing of utmost importance. Nothing that couldn't be addressed later. And so, as previously mentioned, she had nothing better to do. She'd been laying in bed, scrawling a short note to the school board about the battered textbooks at Midtown, when she was suddenly reminded of the school's Valentine's Day Dance. She paused, the lead of her pencil snapping against the paper, and reached for her binder. She flipped through the pages, ignoring the prick of pain as a sticky note sliced her index finger, until her eyes settled upon a neon-pink and red flyer. She squinted at the bright colors and carefully read the exploding text at the top of the page:  
FIND A HONEY AND COME ON DOWN TO MIDTOWN'S SWEET HEARTS DANCE ON FEBRUARY 14! YOU WON'T REGRET IT! DRINKS AND SNACKS PROVIDED. CHAPERONES NEEDED. STOP BY THE MAIN OFFICE FOR MORE DETAILS.  
She pursed her lips and idly skimmed the remainder of the flyer as she recalled Peter and Ned discussing the dance during P.E.. From what she'd conveniently overheard from her position behind the garbage can, Ned had somehow gotten them dates with two juniors. They'd seemed pretty excited about it.  
"It has been awhile since I've been to a party", she muttered, quickly scribbling a note to her father as she walked over to her closet. Her wardrobe was casual, consisting mostly of jeans, t-shirts, and jackets, so finding something "dance-worthy" proved to be a challenge . But in the top drawer on her dresser, underneath her socks and underwear, there was a sort of nice and only slightly wrinkled dress that resembled a black and white chess board. She slid a pair of black high tops on underneath those and, after taping the note to the fridge, made her way out the door and to the school.  
Not because she actually wanted to. But because she was bored. And had absolutely nothing else to do. Nothing that required her immediate attention, at least.  
The dance was being held in the gymnasium. The building throbbed from the bass of the resounding music, and she winced at the sudden onslaught of near deafness and hundreds of gyrating bodies surrounding her. Pearls of sweat broke out along her hairline, and she absent-mindedly reached up to wipe them away as she pushed through the gaps in the crowd.  
"Michelle!"  
Halting her search for Peter, she turned towards the voice and watched as a figure slowly made their way through the crowd. Her face fell at the sight of a boy in a dark red suit rushing towards her, and she reflexively shoved her hands into her pockets.  
"Hey, Michelle", the boy greeted. "Noah Stevens."  
"Uh huh", she murmured. "Was there something that you needed? Cause I'm looking for somebody, something, and I really need to get going."  
Nodding quickly, Noah retrieved a notebook from his pocket and a pen from behind his ear. "I'm covering the dance for Midtown's Entertainment Section in the newspaper. You wouldn't mind me asking you a few questions would you? Thanks. Okay. So I saw you walk in and couldn't help but notice you. That's a nice dress by the way. Where'd you get it?"  
Michelle flushed and gnawed on the dry skin hanging from her bottom lip. "Thanks. And I don't know, Ross maybe?"  
"Right, right. So, Michelle, I don't usually see you at these kind of things. Can I expect to see you at the next one?"  
"Most definitely", she said dryly. She craned her neck out and peered around his shoulder.  
Noah followed her gaze and eagerly tapped his pen against his notepad. "You seem distracted. Looking for someone? Boyfriend, perhaps?"  
"Uh, no. I just need to use the bathroom so." Michelle made a gesture with her hand.  
He nodded, then turned to find someone else to interview.  
She sighed deeply and broke through the crowd once more.  
Of all holidays, Valentine's Day was the one she dreaded the most. Typical, maybe, but she couldn't help it. And, surprising as it may be, her discomfort with the day didn't stem from a strategically hidden envy of those doting and being doted upon. It was the exact opposite actually. The admittedly obnoxious PDA and nauseating over-abundance of the color pink were merely unsettling. Saying she hated the holiday wouldn't necessarily be true, but she certainly avoided roses and candy hearts like they were disease-ridden.  
Not including this. This was different.  
Michelle had just about given up and was chiding herself intensely when she suddenly caught sight of Peter sitting in a chair near the punch bowl. She began to sweat again, the armpits of her dress slowly darkening, and forced her feet to inch forward. Something pricked at the edge of her subconscious, questioning why he was alone. She hummed quietly and, folding her arms behind her back, paused to stand before him. She smiled softly at the sight of his black tux.  
"Hey, Peter", she greeted when he'd fail to notice her.  
Peter looked up, seemingly startled, and rose an eyebrow at the girl in front of him. "Uh, hey, Michelle. When did you get here?"  
"Not long ago. Why are you alone?"  
"Ned and Rita went to get drinks, and Noah wanted to talk to Savannah for a bit." Raising a glass to his lips, he switched his attention to the napkin in his lap and tapped his fork against his plate. "I like your dress."  
"Thanks. Your suit's nice."  
"Thank you."  
Michelle chewed on the dead skin on her lip and leaned against the wall.  
"I didn't know you liked dances", Peter commented, not meeting her eyes.  
"I don't", she dismissed.  
"Oh. Then, uh, why are you here?"  
She shrugged. "I didn't have any other plans."  
"Hm." He smirked, abruptly shifting his attention to her eyes. "Weird how we're always running into each other, isn't it?"  
Her back stiffened, and she anxiously skirted her foot around a puddle of punch on the reflective surface of the floor. "What do you mean?" She reached to pour herself a cup of the red drink, ignoring the tremble in her hands as she tipped the ladle over the plastic cup.  
"Oh, you know. Lunch. Liz's party. Detention. Homecoming. Just seems like you're always around", he noted. "N-Not that that's a bad thing. I just didn't think you liked me."  
Michelle focused on the hot-pink streamers draping from the ceiling and kept silent before suddenly turning to face him. "I never said I didn't like you." She rose her cup and took a few deep gulps of the sugary drink. "And I'm not following you if that's what you're implying, Peter."  
"I wasn't." He held his hands up and looked towards the DJ. "I love this song."  
She rose an eyebrow skeptically. "You like Taylor Swift?"  
"Don't judge me." He patted his sides and smiled shyly. "Wanna dance?"  
Michelle's eyes widened. "I don't dance."  
"Neither can I, but it'll still be fun. Come on, just follow my lead." Peter stuck his hand out and smiled wholeheartedly.  
She hesitated, waiting for him to back down and suggest they do something else. But he never did. She sat her cup on the table and grabbed his hand, letting him gently lead her to the edge of the dance floor.  
Peter reached to wrapped his hands around Michelle's waist, looking into her eyes as he did so. Her heart pounding frantically, she nodded and clumsily gripped his shoulders. She stumbled (because of the dance, not Peter) as he fell into a basic step and struggled to copy his footing.  
"Do you remember", he asked quietly. "Second grade? Mrs. Ruth?"  
"Yeah", Michelle whispered back. "She tried to teach us to waltz."  
"Emphasis on 'tried'", he chuckled. "Nobody got it."  
She gave him a sideways glance. "You did."  
Peter's brow furrowed. "No, I didn't."  
"Yeah, you did. You just didn't want anyone to think you had cause some idiots were saying being a dancer turned guys into girls."  
He blushed as a small smile slid onto his face. "How did you know that?"  
"I know a lot of things."  
He nodded and took a step back, then a step forward, then to the side. "Well, it doesn't matter now. Cause I don't remember any of the steps anyways."  
Michelle looked at the their feet rotating around an invisible square and snorted. "Yeah, I can tell."  
They fell silent and continued dancing until the song ended. As Taylor's soft voice faded into oblivion, a new voice suddenly emerged, one that neither of the two recognized.  
"So", Peter suddenly started. "Er, tell me about yourself. We got back to binky days, but I barely know anything about you."  
He turned to twist her, then pulled her into his chest. She hummed lightly as his arms enclosed her again and titled her head back. "What do you want to know?"  
"I dunno. Family?"  
"Not much. Just my dad, Kishimoto, and I. You?"  
"Me and my Aunt May", he replied nonchalantly. He looked up to stare at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Kishimoto?"  
Michelle laughed. "My guinea pig. I went through a big Naruto phase a while back."  
"Really? You're into anime?"  
"I doubt liking one anime that airs on an American TV network constitutes as being into the anime genre as a whole but sure."  
"True. But hey. Maybe you'll let me meet Kishimoto one day."  
"I assume you're talking about my guinea pig?"  
"Of course. But if you happen to have any contacts-"  
"Just spin me."  
Peter chuckled and twirled her once more. He was about to pull her into his arms when something caught his eye. He looked to something behind her and smiled. "Savannah. Hi."  
Michelle's lips slowly turned downward, and she let her hands fall to her sides. She took a few steps back from Peter and watched as his eyes brightened. A guy walked by, pushing a cart of soda cans, and she distractedly reached for a Pepsi. She twisted it open and took a sip, enjoying the sharp sting as she swallowed.  
"Hey, Peter." A girl in a bright red dress approached them, tossing a radiant smile in Michelle's direction. "Hi. Michelle, isn't it?"  
Michelle stared blankly, gripping her can so tightly that the remainder of her soda rose a few inches. "Yes. And you're Savannah Reids."  
Savannah nodded and stuck her hand out. "Nice to meet you."  
She hesitantly took her hand and gave it a firm shake. "You too." The interaction flew by. It couldn't have gone on for more than twenty seconds. Or maybe it'd been longer. Maybe she'd stood there with her hand tightly gripping this girl's hand for a good few minutes, and the screeching siren between her ears had prevented her from noticing. It would certainly explain why Savannah's smile seemed to tighten when Michelle released her hand.  
"Sorry I took so long, Peter", she was saying. "You would not believe the line to the girl's bathroom."  
"It's fine", Peter promised with a light laugh. "If it's anything like the line to the DJ, I don't think I can be too mad at you."  
Savannah giggled, and Michelle scowled as she shrank behind her hair. She discreetly peered through the curtain of brown curls and watched the two as something bitter rose from her core and settled somewhere between her esophagus and her trachea.  
(And it most certainly was not jealousy because that would mean she cared, and she definitely couldn't care if she hadn't wanted to go to the fucking dance in the first place.)  
"Michelle?"  
Michelle looked up. Savannah and Peter were staring at her with bewildered expressions. "Sorry, what?"  
Peter cleared his throat and nodded at her hand. "Uh, are you going to stop or..."  
She blinked and looked down. Her can was crushed in her hand, and the brown drink had spilled over the sides and onto her hands. "Liquid sugar", she said, incapable of disguising the waver in her words. "It's like weed. For my skin."  
Savannah nodded slowly. "Right."  
Michelle awkwardly walked around her to place her compressed can onto the table. She clucked her tongue and sank her weight onto the heels of her feet. "Well, I, uh, better get going."  
Peter frowned. "Really? The gym doesn't close for like another three hours. And Rita's throwing a party afterwards. Maybe you could come with us. It's gonna be great-"  
"I have plans."  
He gave her a look, and she fought back a grimace as she recalled her earlier assertion.  
"Well, they're not my plans. They're my dad's. I tried getting out of it, but I can't, and I have to go now. So yeah."  
"Okay. Why don't I walk you out?"  
She nodded, worried something unpleasant would come out if she opened her mouth. "Bye Savannah. Have fun at the party."  
Savannah smiled, the gesture somewhat confused but sincere. "Um, have fun with your dad", she said, waving as they made their way through the crowd.  
. . .  
Michelle sighed as they exited the gym, pressing her back against the side of the building. "I can hear again", she said with a small smile.  
"Yeah. My ears are still ringing, though", Peter replied, playfully digging in his ears.  
She huffed and wrapped her arms around herself.  
He walked over to lean against the wall. "Are you okay?"  
"Never better."  
He leaned his head back and stared up. A helicopter passed overhead, whirring as it zoomed across the night sky. Peter's expression turned solemn as his eyes traced the chopper, intensely watching it until it faded from sight.  
"I should get going. In, like, five or six minutes", Michelle said quietly. "My dad'll be expecting me."  
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I was star-gazing."  
"There's too much smog to star-gaze."  
Peter rolled his eyes.  
There was a lull in the conversation, and Michelle waited, squirming slightly, until the words suddenly fell out. "So Savannah."  
He smiled. "Yeah."  
"She seems nice. And cool, I guess."  
"She is. I'm gonna be in Ned's debt for the next fifty years. This would have never happened without him."  
Michelle began chewing on her lip again, pulling the skin back with her teeth until a bead of red dripped onto the collar of her dress.  
Peter made a noise in his throat. "You should probably stop that."  
She shrugged. "I didn't think you'd be dating again. After Liz." She stared at a flyer for the dance blowing through the air and hummed softly.  
His eyes lowered, and he stared at the ground.  
Michelle winced, her blunt words echoing in her ears. "Er, sorry. We can talk about something else. Why do we celebrate Valentine's Day? Originally, it was a holiday to honor to a saint. Now, it's mostly commercialized, and we use it as an excuse to make ourselves feel better and-"  
"Michelle." Peter smirked. "We don't have to change the subject. I don't mind talking about Liz."  
She ran her hand through her hair. "Right."  
He nodded and crossed his arms. "I didn't either. Think I'd be dating again, I mean. But Savannah's cool. I kinda wanna see where this goes."  
"Right. Nothing says best couple like having your first date at a Valentine's Day Dance", she murmured.  
"That's exactly what Ned said", Peter exclaimed. He shook his head and grinned. "Man. Crazy how everything comes full circle."  
"Absolutely insane."  
He turned to look at her, and his eyes softened. "Hey. Did you mean what you said in there? About liking me?"  
Michelle stared back, trying to quiet the blaring alarm in her head. "No."  
He smirked.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I should get going. My dad's probably waiting up for me."  
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot. Again.  
She pushed herself off of the wall and stood still, uncertain. "So...bye?"  
He nodded. "Bye."  
She started walking forward, conscious of Peter's eyes on her retreating figure, and was halfway across the parking lot when he suddenly called out to her. She froze but kept her back to him.  
"Yeah", she called back.  
"We are friends. You know that, right?"  
Michelle stared at the shrub at the edge of the lot and inhaled sharply. She closed her eyes and thought of the dance at Homecoming, and how the slow dances always came towards the end of the evening. She thought of the way she'd been pressed against Peter chest, of how close they'd been, of how happy she'd been, of how right it'd felt.  
Then she thought of what would happen after she left. She thought of Peter going back into the gym, eagerly scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on Savannah. She thought of him walking up to her, extending his hand and asking her to dance. She thought of him wrapping his arms around Savannah's waist, pulling her closer to him so they were breathing the same breaths, close enough to look into her eyes and see his fidgeting reflection in them. Close enough to be more than friends. Lucky enough to be more than friends.  
Michelle clenched down on her lip, ignoring the consequential rush of blood that followed.  
"Yeah."  
And with that, she broke into a sprint, the tongues of her high tops flapping as her feet pounded against the pavement. The wind licked at her wound, and she resisted the urge to hiss in pain. She could have turned around, could have gone back and taken up Peter's offer on the after party, could have done a lot of things. But she didn't. Because doing that relied on going back to the dance and seeing Peter with Savannah again. And she couldn't do that.  
She hadn't even wanted to go the first time.


End file.
